


Lifeline

by theorangebox



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, High School, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Set in 2009, Slow Burn, teenagers need to be taken more seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:30:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorangebox/pseuds/theorangebox
Summary: Being 15, almost 16, is hard enough. Alec doesn't need his parents making his life hell, getting used to living in Bumfuck, Nowhere, Connecticut, and trying to fit in on top of that. Oh, and then there's also that one secret he has been keeping for years now. But that's what he gets and he has no other choice but to make do. Thank God for Magnus and his group of misfit friends, who accept Alec as one of their own in a heartbeat. They, Magnus in particular, make life a little more bearable.





	Lifeline

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, this fic started off with me feeling a bit nostalgic listening to the bands I listened to when I was 13/14/15 and wanting to write a bit of teen angst. However, the more I got into this, the more serious it got. And it kind of made me realise how hard it is being a teenager. Every struggle you're going through seems to be written off as a 'teenager thing' and serious issues are being disregarded because of it and it's infuriating.
> 
> I've never been to an American high school. Please don't get mad at me if I didn't get certain things right.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> In this fic, there will be discussions and descriptions of mental illness (depression, anxiety), abuse (physical, mental, emotional), gaslighting, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. The scenes where self-harm (in the form of cutting) is being described are marked with a single * on top and one on the bottom so you can skip them. But if you are triggered by any of these subjects DON'T READ IT, please. I'm sure I triggered myself writing this chapter so... yeah. 
> 
> Some characters in this story think they're deserving of being punished physically for talking back at their parents but they're not. No one is. 
> 
> Love isn't a magical cure for any kind of mental illness, and doesn't replace treatment. Mental illness should not be romanticised in any way, shape, or form!
> 
> Another thing:I am so sorry about the formatting! I've never had this problem before but I think I have taken care of the biggest issues now? I'll get back to it later but I need a break for now

Green fields pass by in a blur, a few trees growing by the side of the interstate, the grey sky representing Alec's mood perfectly. With a sigh, he closes his eyes, his temple and cheek pressed against the cold windowpane as he simultaneously pops the earphone, he'd previously taken out to listen to what his parents were talking about, back into place.

_Never know what I've become_

_The king of all that's said and done_

_The forgotten son_

The song washes over him, the sound tinny thanks to the cheap earphones Alec had to buy with his own money after his father had destroyed his old ones during a fit of rage. But it doesn't matter that the guitar sounds like two pieces of metal being rubbed together right next to his ear, or that the sound of it physically hurts his eardrums. No, it doesn't matter because the lyrics put into words what Alec has been struggling to voice for months now. 

He isn't good with words, never has been. Neither is he good with expressing his emotions, and giving them enough room. So he lets music speak for him instead. His parents have both complained about his taste in music multiple times  told him it was the music's fault he was being 'grumpy', as they like to call it, all the time. But they just don't understand. It's the music that provides a place of comfort for him, when it's actually his parents and everything else going on that puts him in these moods. 

They don't understand. Just like they don't understand that moving states is the worst thing they could have ever made him do. He doesn't care that his father got an offer for a job, a better job than he had two months ago in New York City, the place Alec had lived at all his life. Why move them there, to some small town in Connecticut, basically the middle of nowhere, when his father could have just made the commute of two hours every weekend, without roping in the entire family? Personally, Alec would have been just fine with not having to cross paths with his father every day. 

Alec had brought up his solution to the moving problem once. It had caused a huge argument, one of the uglier kind, which had ended with his father storming out of their town house, not before calling Alec some ugly names though; and his mother smashing a plate to the ground and going into a fit of rage, yelling at Alec.

Alec is used to being the scapegoat by now. Since he is the oldest of his three siblings, his parents expect a lot more of him than they do of any other child of theirs. It doesn't help that Jace, Alec's younger brother, is the golden boy, unable to do any wrong. Even though he seems to fuck up almost everything he does that doesn't have to do with sports. Their parents just turn a blind eye to that. Alec wants to hate him for that; for always casting a shadow over Alec's achievements, and for simply taking up his parents' attention most of the time. He wants to hate him, but he can't.

When Jace joined the Lightwood family at the age of nine -- Alec was ten at the time -- he and Alec had hit it off the second they'd laid eyes on one another. They'd been inseparable for the first few years of their teens. But recently, the rivalry their parents have slowly created between them, a rivalry Alec has no chance of winning, has created a wedge between them.  It's not Jace's fault that their parents favour him over Alec. And he does stand up for Alec whenever their parents point out his mistakes, or give him shit over nothing. 

It's a minor comfort to know that Izzy, his sister two years younger than he, is more of the rebellious nature, getting her into trouble with her parents every now and then. So, at least he is not the only family disappointment.  

_Think before you make up your mind_

_You don't seem to realize_

_I can do this on my own_

_And if I fall I'll take it all_

_It's so easy after all_

The house they arrive at is your typical white-picket-fence house, every American's wet dream. It's twice the size of the old brown stone Alec grew up in. Alec hates it. He hates the front porch; he hates how perfect everything looks -- from the polished hard wood floors to the perfectly trimmed lawn out front. Everything seems so fake, which, granted, is a perfect match for the family they're pretending to be. 

Alec is convinced that this is one of those neighbourhoods where even the growth of bushes and laws are being policed and only if you want to face the wrath of the neighbourhood watch you dare to ignore their gardening-policies.

Since their furniture is set to arrive the next day, Alec's bedroom is fairly empty, save for the queen-sized bed right underneath the window. Alec doesn't care. He unearths _The Picture Of Dorian Gray_ from his backpack and throws himself onto the mattress with as much dramatic flair as he is capable of. 

A knock on the door to his room is what makes him put the book down with a silent groan, calling for, whoever the intruder might be, to come in. 

"Have you been up here all day?" Izzy leans against the door frame, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She looks a lot like her mother then, with her forehead pulled into a frown, a lips a straight line. But her eyes tell a different story. They're warm, lacking the undying impatience their mother's eyes always carry.

"And what about it?" Alec snaps, itching to dive back into the story.

"Dinner's ready. Mum told me to come get you. They ordered pizza."

With a groan, Alec gets up and follows his sister down the stairs. He isn't in the mood to face his parents, to pretend as though nothing's wrong. How many times have his parents, his mother in particular, told him he was ruining dinner simply by not smiling, or frowning all the way through?

It's ridiculous how much they care about pretending they're all living together in absolute bliss and harmony, rather than investigating the actual problem, and working on said problem

Everyone is already sat around the big dinner table as Alec and Izzy enter the dining room. Without a word, they take their seats, Alec feeling his father's harsh eyes on him. He meets his father's gaze and swallows thickly. He wishes he could turn off that part of his brain that makes him care so much about his parents' approval. But time and time again it has been proven that at the end of the day, it's an impossible feat. 

"Who wants to say grace?" Maryse, his mother, breaks the uncomfortable silence, the bright smile on her face as fake as Robert Pattinson's abs in the _New Moon_ movie. Max, the youngest Lightwood sibling with his four years of age, is quick to volunteer. He still gets away with not getting all the words right, or mixing up the prayers. His parents think it's cute. 

It's not that those prayers are hard to remember, but whenever Alec has to say one, his parents always find something to criticise; "speak up", "show some respect, speak with more passion" and the like.

It's stupid, though. Alec doesn't even believe in God, at least not like his parents do. So why should he have to follow the same rules they do? 

"God is great And God is good, And we thank God for our food

By God's hand we must be fed,

Give us Lord,  Our daily bread.

Amen."

"Amen." Alec joins into the chorus with a mumble, rubbing the palms of his hands against his thighs, finally able to let go of his siblings' clammy hands 

Dinner conversation is stilted, his mother's attempts at trying to engage the entire family in her rant about the _incompetent_ \-- her words -- movers, fall flat.

"Do you know how you're going to spend the rest of your summer? I don't want any of you just hiding away in your room." She doesn't say it out right but she is clearly addressing Alec there. He rolls his eyes, sighing in annoyance. How the hell is he supposed to know? His plan was to hide away for as long as possible, and read all the books he hadn't managed to squeeze into his tight schedule during the last semester of school. Preferably, in his room. 

Since that doesn't seem to be an option, he has to figure out something else. At home, in New York -- he refuses to call this dump his home -- he'd seek shelter at the public library, or the small coffee shop near Lexington Avenue, where he had spent many hours to unwind from his exhausting home life. But here? 

With no public transportation whatsoever, no driver's license, Alec is dependent on his parents driving him around, unless he wants to walk for hours to get from point A to point B. It sucks. And besides, what does Dudael, Connecticut have to offer in the first place? 

"Football training starts in two days," Jace reminds Maryse, as though they hadn't chosen exactly this day to move so that he could attend the camp without missing a day.

"Of course." Maryse smiles at Jace like he is the only beacon of hope for her family. Alec wonders in silence what it would take for Jace to be a disappointment in her eyes. It seems impossible, if he is being honest with himself. Jace could take a shit in the middle of their living room and Maryse would probably applaud him for being oh so thoughtful for not taking one in the kitchen. 

"I don't know yet. They have a public pool here, don't they?" Izzy ponders out loud.

"They do. But I don't want you hanging out there all day when you have school work to do." Izzy starts her first year of high school after the summer and, needless to say, their parents have got a lot stricter with her,regarding school work, over the last few months. This time, Alec isn't the only one rolling his eyes. 

"But if I do school work I'll be hidden in my room all day," Izzy smirks. 

"I'm sure you can find a balance," Maryse dismisses her, not letting Izzy use her own argument against her. "And you, Alexander?" 

Alec can't remember how many times he has told his parents to stop calling him that. But they never listen, saying that they chose that name for him, and not some shortened version. Every time Maryse says that, she scrunches her nose, as though going by a nickname is something people of the lower class do, and below her and her family-- Alec knows it's what she believes and he couldn't be any more disgusted by his own family. 

"I --" he hasn't thought of an answer satisfactory enough to get his parents off his back, paying attention to the ongoing conversation instead. So he almost slips up, almost admits that he doesn't know how he is going to spend the rest of his summer. Luckily, he is a quick thinker. "Studying." He shrugs, hoping his answer is enough.  

" I'm sure you'll be able to take  Isabelle  to town ."  Inwardly , Alec  groans  but he  doesn't let his annoyance  at  being Izzy's assigned babysitter show .  Instead , he  nods ,  keeping the question of how  he  is supposed to take  her  to town by himself to himself . He  is too worn  out  to be lectured by his parents . 

It's three days later that  Alec  has to accompany Izzy to the public pool for the first  time. The  heat is sweltering ,  the air  dry, and Alec  wants nothing more than to hide  in  his bedroom with the  AC  turned up .  Instead , he  is dressed  in  black trunks , a  thin cotton shirt , and  flip-flops that make the most ridiculous sound with every step  he  takes .  Izzy walks ahead of him ,  bouncing with excitement . 

Izzy has always been a n overly  social person, never shying away from meeting new people, and making friends. Alec has no idea how she does it. He himself has always been more of an introvert, struggling with making conversation, and preferring the solitary of his room over any social activity. 

The  public swimming pool is only twenty walking minutes away  and  by the  time  they arrive , Alec  is glad it's the swimming pool they're visiting  and not _  Sephora _ ,  or whatever stores his sister likes to shop  at,  as  he  is drenched  in  sweat , and  probably smelling  like he  hasn't showered  in a  week . 

They lay  out  their towels  on  the lawn ,  it's early  so  the area around the pool isn't too crowded  and  they managed to  find a  spot  in  the shadow ,  though Izzy insists  on  moving into the sun  a  little later . 

Izzy disappears to the pool right  after  dressing  down  to  her  bikini ,  leaving  Alec  to himself . He  doesn't  mind. He  opens the book  he  brought with him  --  _ The Hunger Games _  -- and loses  himself  in  the pages . 

He gets pulled in by the first few lines, and forgets everything else around him. He tunes out the screams of excitement coming from the pool, his mind solely focused on  _ Katniss _ . He instantly connects with her character. He can't imagine what it must be like, growing up in a dystopian country like  _ Panem _ , having to fear death of loved ones on a  daily  basis  (and then on a yearly basis as well, with the games and all) . He too, as much as Izzy and Jace annoy him sometimes, would put his life on the line if it meant his  siblings'  was to be spared. 

A shadow falling over his face, and thick drops of cold water against his skin are what pull him back into the real world. With a frown he looks up,  shielding  his eyes from the sun with his hand. Izzy is towering over him, hands on her hips, an amused smirk plastered all over her face. 

" Iz .  You're dripping  all  over  me." He  rolls over ,  sitting up as  he  wipes  off  the pool water . 

" Ugh ."  Izzy groans as she drops  down  onto  her  towel , " you're  such a  bore .  You  do  know you're allowed to have fun ,  right ?" 

" I'm having plenty fun ,  thank you ."

"Sure  looks  like it."

" It does ,  yes ." 

Izzy shakes  her  head , her  eyes closed . 

As  noon draws near ,  the already sparse crowd is thinning  out,  leaving behind only  a  couple of groups lounging  on  the lawn , and  even fewer people playing  in  the water . Alec  wants to go  back  to reading  but  one of the groups settled near them grabs his attention . 

They're about Alec's age, maybe a year or two older. Two of the guys laying unmoving on their backs in the shade -- one of them paler than Alec, something Alec ha s  deemed almost impossible -- while the three girls of the group laugh wholeheartedly at something, the one with long braids in her dark hair shoving the  red - haired  girl playfully. 

Alec watches their carefree, good-natured bickering, pushing down the longing for something like that -- friends he can be himself around (his siblings don't count). He has never really had a friendship, let alone a group of friends ,  like the one he is currently watching. Yes, he's had friends in New York, but he mostly got to see them at school, or during his parents' dinner parties, which his friends' parents were regular guests at. 

Basically, Alec has had only friends due to his parents' relationships. Nothing had been real about them. It's not that much of a surprise that ever since he has stepped foot into the car that got him here, to nowhere, Connecticut, he hasn't heard from any of them. Not that he cares. Most of them were just some stuck up Upper-East-Side kids, only caring about appearances and all that. Besides, when Alec had started to become more reclusive over the last few months, no one had cared. They'd just shut him out, no questions asked.  

So yeah, Alec would love to have a friend group like this. But he has no idea how he would fit in with a group like theirs. So, why even bother with trying? He is never going to be one of the cool kids (because yes, they totally seem like they’re the cool kids around). 

He is ripped from his wistful, and kind of self-deprecating, thoughts by his sister who has been watching him from where she is laying on her towel, all dried up by now.  

"Go up to them." 

"What? No!" He shakes his head vehemently. She's crazy.

"Why not?"

"Because." 

There us nothing to argue about. Some stranger walking up to a group of older kids, trying to get them to be friends with him is fucking weird. Besides, what would he even say? 'Hi, I'm Alec, I don't know how to make friends. Please have pity on me and play with me'? No way.

Then get into the pool with me at least." Izzy sits up, stretching her arms over her head. 

"But you just got out." 

"Well yeah, to check up on you. Didn't want to leave you suffocating in your own stuffiness." He rolls his eyes at her but doesn't say anything. "So," she challenges him," are you coming?"

He goes over the options he has been offered. It's either agree and be alone for the rest of the day; or refuse and never hear the end of it. Begrudgingly, he gets to his feet, pulling the shirt over his head. "Ten minutes tops," he tries to negotiate but she just rolls his eyes at him.

She gets up nonetheless, some sort of mischief gleaming in her eyes. It's the kind of gleam Alec has learned to fear over the years. He has no idea what it is, but he is certain she's up to something. He already regrets his decision of going with her.

And his suspicion is justified. As soon as they get near the pool's edge, Izzy rams into him, pushing him over. He falls for only a millisecond before the cold envelopes him, the chlorine induced water burning his mouth and nose. Mostly his nose. The water isn't deep at all, all he needs is for his feet to hit the ground to give him a little push he needs to break the surface. He splutters as he comes above water, pushing hair that has fallen over his face back. His eyes burn, as does his throat but that doesn't matter. He has unfinished business to deal with first.

"Oh, it's on." He threatens his little sister, who, by now, has made it into the water as well, standing where the water is shallow enough for her to be able to have her feet on the floor tiles without having to hop on one spot in order to keep her head above water.  

He  throws himself into the  --  barely existing  --  waves ,  sending  a  splash of water towards Izzy .  She shrieks as the cold water hits  her  face  but  before  Alec  can even react ,  she fires  back  twice as hard . 

It's childish ,  really , but at  this moment , Alec  doesn't  care.  He'd even go as far  and  admit that  he  is having fun ,  having  a  water fight with his little sister . 

"Okay, okay,  you win . I surrender." He  throws his hands up ,  his eyes hurting from the  light  being reflected  on  the water . He  squints ,  rendered  blind  for  a  moment .  It doesn't help that Izzy keeps splashing water  at  him .  When  he  doesn't reciprocate the assault ,  she stops . 

"Fine."  She throws herself backwards then ,  crashing into the water with  a  loud splash . Alec  busies himself by swimming from one  end  of the swimming pool to the other ,  trying  not  to let the pleasure of cold water against his sun-warmed skin show . 

He  doesn't know how many laps  he  swims , just  that  he  stays  in  the water far longer than anticipated . Maybe  getting  out  for  a  bit is good .  Doesn't mean that  he  has got to  do  it  all  the  time,  though . 

He is about to get out of the pool when three guys approach the ladder leading down into the pool. Two of them, Alec recognises from the group he'd been observing earlier. The third guy, with light brown skin and south east Asian features looks like he's walking right off the _Baywatch_ set -- abs well defined, trunks hanging low on his hips, hair effortlessly slicked back. 

Alec freezes up, his hormone-controlled brain forgetting how to function entirely at the sight of him. His mouth is hanging open, his breath caught in his throat. That is, until Izzy calls his name, the laughter of those three guys echoing around him as they resurface after having jumped into the water only inches away from Alec. 

Of course, they didn't see Alec. Guys like that never pay attention to the quieter ones, to the ones that aren't looking like they're at a photoshoot 24/7 -- though, Alec highly doubts he’d be able to make himself look like he is one of them for even a second.

And  then there is that thing with  Alec  hiding this huge ass secret that doesn't seem to be that much of  a  secret ,  considering the many times  he  got called ugly slurs  at  his old school .

Yeah, no way are those guys ever going to be paying attention to him. And when they do, it's to bully. No matter how good-looking they might be, there is always a twist. And Alec would rather  go  unnoticed than having to face the wrath of bullies before school has even started. 

 

 

At  home that night , Maryse and Robert  are giving each other the cold shoulder . Not  for the first  time  of the day  Alec  is actually glad that Izzy got him  out  of the house .  Had  he  been home ,  he'd have been witness to yet another fight between his parents that even his  iPod  wouldn't have been able to drown  out. 

Jace, oblivious to whatever is going on between their parents, gushes over the scrimmage they'd been doing  th a t da y at training camp. As happy as Alec is for his brother, this is the billionth time he has to listen to his stupid football stories, and he couldn't care less. 

" That's great ,  son .  You're making us very proud ." 

Oh, what would Alec give to hear those words coming from his father's mouth? But getting mediocre grades and only showing interest in classes his parents deem unworthy, and are for those who aren't able to pass their exams in different , more demanding  classes, according to them, won't get him that. 

He  pushes the  slice  of roast around his plate ,  barely able to hide the sting of jealousy his father's words  send  through him .  It's embarrassing how much  he  craves for his parents '  recognition . 

"Alexander!" His  father's  sharp  voice cuts through Alec's dark thoughts , like  it isn't the first  time  his name has been said .  Alec's head snaps up ,  his guts clenching . " Where were you today ?" 

"At  the pool ?" Like  Izzy hasn't already talked about them going there together . 

"Watch your tone, young man." Just like that, the atmosphere around the table grows even more tense. Alec squares his shoulders, meeting Robert's eyes only hesitantly. Robert raising his voice over something so insignificant being the first indication of an oncoming explosion is basic knowledge ,  after all. "Did I not ask you to clean out the garage yesterday?" 

He  did . But  then Izzy had begged  and  pleaded for him to go with him to the pool . And  then  Maryse  had as well .  What  was he  supposed to  do?  Besides , he  would have thought that when his mother  was  being adamant about him going with Izzy ,  she had talked to  Robert  beforehand  and  made sure that the garage could wait another day . Turns out  she didn't . 

"But  mum said  --" 

"I don't care. I asked you to do something and you didn't. I can't even trust my own son." The disappointment lies heavy in his voice. And it's not just that. There is something so much more to the way he says it. At that moment, all Alec wants to do is disappear, maybe  after  giv ing  his father his own piece of mind. Because, how dare he? It's not Alec's fault that his dad cluttered the garage when they ’d  moved in. And it's most certainly not Alec who wants to park his car in it. So why should he, Alec, do all the work? He isn't his father's servant. And why is his father acting like Alec has betrayed him big time? He wants to say all those things but his throat is clogged up.

"I  want that space cleaned by tomorrow ."  Leaving no further room for discussion ,  his father gets up ,  stomping  out  of the room ,  the food  on  his plate barely touched . 

The  silence hanging over the remaining family members is deafening .  Izzy , Jace, and Max turn back  to their plates wordlessly . Alec  pokes  at  one of the potatoes  on  his plate ,  his appetite long gone .  For  a  moment ,  the sound of cutlery against ceramic is the only sound filling the room . 

That is ,  until  Maryse  throws the fork she's been holding ever since  Robert  started going  off on Alec down  onto the table  top  with  so  much force ,  the entire table rattles . All  four of  her  children startle , Jace  freezing mid-chew , Max  growing smaller  in  his seat ,  Izzy  just  staring up  at her  with one eyebrow arched . 

" Thank you for ruining dinner ." Maryse  hisses .  Though she isn't looking  at  anyone  in  particular , Alec  knows she is talking to him . "Next time just do  what your father says ." 

And  isn't that the most ridiculous thing ?  Wasn't it  her  who had insisted  upon Alec  going with Izzy when  he  clearly didn't want to ?

"Thanks for nothing." With that, Maryse grabs her plate and storms off into the kitchen. They, Jace, Izzy, Max ,  and Alec ,  sit there frozen for another minute, listening to her rummaging through cabinets, and filling the dishwasher, clearly still heated up, going by the loud banging and clattering.

"Fuck  this ." Alec  mumbles ,  getting up as well . He  stomps up the flight of stairs ,  slamming the door to his room behind him .  They can  all fuck off.  It isn't his  fault  that the communication  in  this family is  so  flawed . 

Underneath  all  the  hurt,  there is anger buried inside of him . Anger, he  does  not  know how to  handle.  It has been inside of him for ,  what feels  like,  years . And  now ,  it seems ,  it has reached its tipping point . 

Restlessly pacing through his room , he  rakes his fingers through his unruly hair .  Fuelled by fury , he  pulls  at  one of the strands ,  letting  out a  growl ,  followed by his fist hitting the  wall  repeatedly . The  pain doesn't  fully  register until  he  stops ,  dropping onto the bed . 

It's a dull throb at first. But the longer he sits there, his breathing coming out in pants, the sharper the pain gets. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, sucking in a sharp breath. When he opens them again, he notices the tremor in his hands that only gets worse once he realises ,  he broke the skin around his knuckles. 

Watching his fingers moving around slowly, feeling the pain it causes, eases some of the fury previously  having ruled  over him. Not all of it though. That is why when Maryse barges into his room . He  can barely hold his tongue, especially when she starts accusing him of doing these things -- not listening to Robert, and doing whatever he wants instead -- on purpose, with the intent of ruining things for her. His blood is  boiling,  heart beating out of control.  There are so many things he’d like to say in his own defence, and to call out the unfairness with which she continues treating him. 

"Piss off , "  is all that comes out of his mouth, though.

Everything happens so fast then. He is barely aware of what he just said to his mother, when her palm meets his cheek with a loud slap. His head snaps back from the impact, tears stinging in his eyes. The pain in his hand is nothing compared to what it fe els like having betrayed his own mother like that .  What kind of son tells his mother to ‘piss off’?  His cheek stings and burns. But nothing is as bad as the feeling of  suffocating guilt . 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

He scrambles to the other side of the bed, tears streaming down his face. He can't tell whether it's the physical pain causing them to flow, or simply the fact that he has been struck by his own mother  after disrespecting her the way he did.

His legs are pulled up to his chest, his arms lying protectively over his face as he lies there on his side, waiting for his mother to disappear. But she just stands there over him, her eyes  blown wide in fury, and something close to hatred.

He deserves it, he thinks. At the same time, though he can’t help the anger bubbling inside of him. Anger directed at her for always taking his father’s side, whenever he picks at Alec for not being the  son  he wants him to be. And for never standing up for Alec in situations like today’s, when she could have easily explained the misunderstanding. 

" Mum, please. I’m sorry, " Alec whispers , he begs .  But it  is silent then, the sound of a door closing  being his only answer. 

The  tears  fall in  silence .  They have to .  There is no way  Alec  is going to allow himself to full  on  sob .  Someone could hear . And  what would they think ? Boys  don't cry . Most  certainly  not  boys his age .

Lying there  in  the quiet of his room , an  ache blooms  in  his chest ,  robbing him  off all  the air his lungs harbour .  It's suffocating  and  swallowing him whole .  There is no other way to describe  it.  It's  like all  thoughts have abandoned him ,  leaving only darkness behind . He  faintly hears the growl coming from his empty stomach  but he  can't  bring  himself to  care. 

He lies there crying until there are no tears left. Then, he continues lying there, staring at the plain wall, wishing for himself to disappear into  a  void of nothingness. 

He must  have  fallen  asleep eventually ,  for when  he  opens his eyes again , he  is surrounded by darkness ,  the faint glow of  a  street  light  falling through the window being the only  source  of  light. A  glance  at  the alarm clock  on  his night table tells him it's almost four  in  the morning . He  groans .  For  a  second , he  feels fine . But  then everything comes crashing  down on  him . He  remembers ,  with clarity ,  everything that went  down  that night . The  shame ,  the pain ,  the anger ,  the guilt . 

***

To say the garage is cluttered would be an understatement. Boxes filled to the brim with God knows what are taking up all of the space, trash bags, old suit cases, and gardening tools piled on top of them. It's a mess and Alec  has  no idea where to begin sorting through everything. His mother did hand him a bunch of trash bags to put all the junk in. She hadn't said anything, though . And Alec had struggled with looking into her eyes, the shame still sitting deep.

It's the first  time  she has ever laid hands  on  any of  her  children . 

His cheek still hurts, the throb a reminder  of his ugly words and the disappointment and anger in her eyes . He thinks about  Jace, and how he, the golden boy, would never dare to say such thing to the people who’d taken him in and cared for him. 

He  shoves the rusty old spade lying around into the trash bag with too much force ,  the bag ripping  open. He  curses under his breath ,  grateful no one is there to witness this scene . Alec  Lightwood can't even  do  one thing right . He  ruins everything . 

He  grabs the spade by its  handle,  shoving it  in  deeper ,  jaw clenched , a  growl roaring  in  his throat . The  insides of the bag clatter to the ground ,  the sound loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood  --  if it were the middle of the night . 

"Alexander?" His  mother's voice indignant comes from behind as she sticks  her  head through the crack of the door . " What are you doing ?" 

"Tidying the garage , "  he says meekly, his emotions a confusing mix of guilt and anger. 

" Then why is there everything  on  the ground ?"  She steps through the door ,  arms crossed  in  front of  her  chest ,  forehead pulled into  a  stern frown .

" Because ." 

" Don't get sassy with me ,  young  man." The  sharpness of  her  voice makes him tense up ,  shoulders pulling up protectively  on  their  own  account .  She doesn't even notice  --  or she does , but  doesn't  care --  for she strides over , her  eyes roaming through the garage ,  lips pursed . Alec  can feel the disappointment without  her  having to say anything ,  the air thickening with anxiety inducing tension . 

 "Sorry," he  mumbles ,  voice caught  in  his throat . 

" You know your father  will  be home soon ." The  unspoken threat hangs  in  the air ,  slowly clawing its way around Alec's throat ,  suffocating him . 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

" Hurry ."

"Yes, Ma'am."  She gives him  a  clipped nod ,  turning  on her  heel . And Alec  gets the sinking feeling that tonight's dinner is going to be  just  as awful as yesterday's . 

Hours pass, the garage emptying out at a much slower pace than he'd like  it  to. It's almost six in the evening when the familiar sound of his father's  _ Lexus  _ approaches and eventually gets turned off in the drive way, right in front of the garage door. He swallows thickly. His father is home and he  expects  the garage to be all tidied up by now. While Alec did get far, he is nowhere near to being finished. There are still dusty old sun loungers leaning against the wall, an ancient pair of skis that haven't been in use since their last trip to Aspen four years ago, and an abundance of books amongst the things Alec hasn't even had the time to properly look at. 

Sweat  is dripping  off  Alec's forehead ,  the burning sun having turned the garage into  a  Dutch oven over the course of the day . Arms  sore from boxing things  all  day long  and  then stacking the boxes  in  the far corner over  and  over again , he  can barely lift the trash bag filled with broken pool toys . 

"Alexander," his father's voice booms through the house. He freezes. His father's wrath seems inevitable now. There is nothing he can do about it. He did his best but, in the end, his best isn't good enough.  Not to mention that his mother had, most likely, told him about last night’s incident. And Robert holding Alec lashing out at Maryse against him is a given. 

"Alexander,"  his father is standing  in  the door way now ,  forehead scrunched ,  the fury  in  his eyes burning dangerously , "I  thought  I  asked you to be done by the end of the day ." 

" I'm  --" Alec  starts  but he  doesn't have the  time  to  half-ass  his way through  an  apology  he  doesn't actually mean , an  apology solely based  on  fear ,  for his father crosses the room to where  Alec  is standing ,  trash bag  still in  hand ,  with two steps before  he  strikes him with the palm of his hand . Alec  reels  back. His  head snaps to the side by the impact ,  the entire left side of his face burning  and  throbbing . Tears  fill his eyes  and  there is nothing  he  can  do  to stop them . All  air has been knocked  out  of his lungs . 

"Save your excuse," his father continues without missing a beat, as though striking your own son is the most ordinary thing in the world. "Things are going to be a bit different here, from now on. I'm sick of you taking advantage of us. Do you think I like working my ass off, only for you to disrespect me?" 

There are thousands of snappy answers flittering through Alec's mind ,  none of which his father would approve of .  He'd only pour fuel over  a  fire already burning , so he  holds his tongue . 

" No ,  sir ,"  is what  he  says instead ,  his cheek protesting as his lips move . 

"Tomorrow I want this place to be clean. Now, get out of my line of sight. I don't want to see you until then." Alec complies without another word, his legs wobbling underneath him as he tracks up the stairs to his room. Only when he has reached the sanctuary of his own four walls ,  he allows himself to let go, tears of anger and hurt streaming down his cheeks, his sobs stifled by the pillow pressed against his face. 

Days pass. He  cleans  out  the garage as  he  is expected to  and  when  he  is done with that ,  his mother puts him to work  in  the  back  yard where  he  is hunched over beds of flowers ,  ridding the soil  off  weeds  and  whatnot . He  doesn't see much of his siblings , Jace  being  off at  training  camp,  Iz either spending  her  last days of  ' freedom '  behind  her  desk ,  or doing  normal  teenage stuff , like  going to the pool ,  or checking  out  the local area .  It  hurts  to  listen  what his siblings have been up to over dinner ,  when  all Alec  has done is being their parents ' personal  slave . And  no one seems to actually  care.

***

On the morning of the first day of school, Alec wakes way before his alarm is set to go off. He hates school, or rather, he hates the social aspect of school. At his old school he had stuck to his small group of friends while trying to keep out of the bullies' way as much as possible. There had been a few incidents, though, where he'd had a run-in with one, maybe more, of them. Those had never ended in his favour. At his old school, he knew how to operate, who to avoid. But at the new school, where  he doesn’t know a single person in his year,  he is prone to falling victim to the cruelties of other kids. And he is scared. 

He might be lucky to run into Jace or Izzy in the halls -- Izzy being a freshman, and Jace a sophomore, while Alec starts his junior year. But in the classrooms, Alec is going to be on his own. 

This summer has been the summer of hell and he is not sure he can take on any more abuse. Over the last weeks, he has withdrawn himself more and more from everyone, barely talking to his siblings, let alone his parents. Actually, he has resorted to avoiding his parents at all costs. They haven't laid a hand on him since that day in the garage, but the fact they both did speaks for itself.  The first time might have been justified but the second time, when his father had struck him, hadn’t. 

Dinner time has turned into his own personal hell, where everything he says could cause a huge explosion of either his mother or father, or both. Whatever he does, his parents never seem happy with him; he has tried not saying anything during dinner, only for his parents to complain. Did he open his mouth, his parents would complain as  well.  And so, Alec figured, there was no way he was ever going to please them. He started not attending dinner at all with the excuse of feeling ill, or simply not being hungry.

His siblings didn't notice. They didn't question why, all of a sudden, Alec wasn't speaking to any of them; or why he hid in his room at any possible time. They just accepted his behaviour as something he would naturally do. To be fair, he has always been one of  the  quieter  sort s , who actually enjoys alone time -- unlike both Iz zy  and Jace. 

That morning, he wakes early, dread already coiling in his stomach. He lies in bed for a little while before he can't take it any more. He drags himself into the shower, remaining unfazed as the hot water hits his skin, sending a sharp sting up his left arm. 

He gets dressed, throwing over an oversized black hoodie despite the hot temperatures and pulls up his favourite pair of black skinny jeans -- which aren't sitting as snugly around his thighs as they once used to. 

They, Izzy, Jace, and Alec,  get  dropped off at school by Robert. The entire drive, Alec fiddles with a thread hanging off his hoodie, heartrate picking up the closer they get to school. His siblings seem less nervous about inserting themselves into an already established social hierarchy. But they've never struggled making friends. They've never been the weird one out; so why would they be nervous? 

His first class of the day is German. And though German is claimed to be the language of poets, he wishes he'd taken Spanish instead. He would have been at an advantage, being raised bilingually and all that. He takes a seat in the last row, hoping to go unnoticed by his classmates. His plan succeeds for the most part. That is, until his teacher calls on him, waiting for him to answer a question Alec didn't hear. Suddenly, everyone is staring at him, the new kid. He can feel his face heating up, his cheeks going beet red. 

"I don't know," he says eventually, shrugging helplessly as he silently begs for the ground to open up. 

The teacher, an elderly woman, chides him for not paying attention and answering in English on top of that. He'd do anything to get out of that situation, her words too similar to those his mother always uses whenever he zones out at the dinner table. 

He rushes out of the classroom as soon as the bell announces the end of the first period. He dodges around students getting to their next period, keen on not causing any trouble on his first day when he hears someone c all  out his name. He ignores it at first. But then someone taps his shoulder. 

"Alec, wait." He turns around then, not sure who to expect. It's a rather short, bespectacled boy around his age, a shy smile hovering over his lips. When the boy doesn't say anything, Alec arches an eyebrow at him in question. 

"Don't worry about what Mrs Mueller said. She can be a piece of work but she's actually quite nice. I'm Simon, by the way. And you're Alec but you already know that," the boy, Simon, chuckles sheepishly, pushing his round glasses up his nose with one finger. 

"Yeah, um, I have to get to my next class. Thanks, though," Alec shoots him a quick smile before he ducks away; or tries to because the next second Simon is walking beside him. 

"What class do you have next?" He asks, unbothered by Alec giving him the cold shoulder. 

"Pre-calc." 

"Oh, that's funny. Me too." Alec can't see how that's funny but he keeps that to himself. They walk to class together, Simon asking all kinds of questions, Alec giving short-clipped answers. 

"Where did you live before you came here?" 

"Manhattan," Alec says as they enter the classroom, overcome by a sudden wave of homesickness at the mention of the  burrow . 

"Oh wow. Must be weird to live in a small town now." Simon plops down in the seat beside Alec and Alec guesses having the babbling boy sit next to him is better than some of the  other  students filing into the classroom. 

"You have no idea," Alec grumbles. 

Pre-calculus is even worse than German but at least he doesn't get called on, so that's a win. Before his lunch period, Alec has to sit through English AP and biology. And then finally he can get a break. The weather outside is still warm so he isn't the only one deserting the stuffy cafeteria. He heads outside, down to the football field where he sits in the grass, right beside the bleachers, out of sight of the people lingering by the tables outside the cafeteria. 

He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. This whole day has been a mess, he is overwhelmed and wishes he could just hide away, go back to how things were before they moved away. Things hadn't been ideal either in New York. But at least he'd been able to escape his parents for as long as he'd needed to. Here, he is faced with his father every single day, and he has to meet his parents' expectations under a more up-close watch. And he doesn't know anyone. His siblings are doing their own thing (and Max is too young to hang out with) and everything is just terrible. 

He plugs in his earphones before he presses play on his iPod -- he doesn't leave the house without it -- and turns the volume to the max. The rusty guitar chords wash over him as the beat picks up and when  _ Gerard Way' _ s voice sets in the tension in his shoulders has already eased out, his mind clearing off any negative thoughts. 

_ What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems? (I'm not okay) _

_ I told you time and time again you sing the words but don't know what it means _

_ To be a joke and look _

_ Another line without a hook _

_ I held you close as we both shook for the last time _

_ Take a good hard look _

_ I'm not okay _

He sits there for a while, his solitude a blessing. While Simon seems like an okay enough guy, Alec is glad they don't have the same lunch period. Listening to his constant babbling got exhausting after a while. But at least he was nice and seemed genuinely interested in Alec. Why Alec wants to keep him at a distance is beyond his own understanding.  

There are unintelligible noises coming from behind him, his music turned up too loud for him to make out anything besides  the murmur . He turns the music down, sitting stock still, breath caught in his airway. It's a group of people that passes him without noticing he's watching them. They look like they might be a year older than he. And they seem so very comfortable around each other, like they have known each other for a while now. The longhaired, tall, dark skinned girl has one of her arms slung around a guy's neck -- the guy's face is pulled into a frown, his shoulders hunched -- and they continue walking as she talks quietly to him. 

They are followed by two other guys, the smaller one frowning almost as hard as the guy being comforted, the other one talking animatedly with both his hands. And -- Oh. Alec swallows. He knows those two. It's been a while but the day he spent with Izzy at the pool -- his last day of summer break, so to speak -- that's where he saw them. He remembers then how unashamed he'd stared at the taller guy, mesmerized by his stunning physique. And just like that, Alec can feel his face going beet red. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't had one or two dreams about that guy. He'd woken up then, bed all sticky.  Luckily,  he'd woken before everyone else, or he wouldn't have been able to get rid of all evidence fearing an interrogation from his siblings; or worse, his mother. 

The group passes him and he lets out a sigh of relief, when they make their way up the hill towards the cafeteria without noticing him. He couldn’t bare the embarrassment of being caught here, all by himself, like the loser he is. 

Lunch ends far too quickly and soon Alec finds himself in one of the school's chem labs. Chemistry is by far his least favourite subject, for various reasons. He hates, absolutely hates, having to work with a partner, preferring to work at his own pace, and not having to discuss his every thought with someone he doesn't know, and would never speak to outside of class. And for some reason, chemistry teachers love to partner up their students. 

Alec ends up with Maia, a girl just as unmotivated as he, her face blank as she slinks into the seat beside him. 

"Just FYI, I'm not going to do your homework, and I'm not going to work on the projects all by myself. You better pull your weight," she hisses as the teachers hands out worksheets to every group. 

"Sure," he nods, slightly intimidated. They work in silence which is only broken by Maia's instructions. The class ends without any incidents -- Alec had been slightly worried about messing up so terribly, he'd cause an explosion, or create some sort of deadly gas -- and as they leave the lab together, Maia even sends something close to a smile his way. It's a success, he thinks. At least she doesn't seem to hate him. Not yet, anyway. 

They walk down the hallway side by side, the silence between somewhat awkward and Alec wonders whether he should come up with an excuse to walk the other way, wondering whether she even wants to walk with him. 

"Maia!" His thoughts get interrupted by a familiar voice. "Oh, you've met Alec! Hi, Alec." Simon looks between them before he puts his arm around Maia's shoulder. She doesn't seem to mind at all as she is set back into motion, Alec following her awkwardly. The two seem to be close, so much so that Alec can't quite tell whether they're an item or simply very close friends.  It  kind of fits, Alec thinks, Simon being a blabber mouth, Maia the exact opposite. Together they  seem to  balance each other out perfectly. 

"Do you want to come?" Simon asks, pulling Alec out of his thoughts. 

"Huh?"

"To Magnus'? Tonight?"

"Um, yeah? I'll have to ask my mum first, though." Alec is too stunned to come up with a good excuse. If it was an invitation to Simon's or Maia's he'd probably be more eager to go. But being invited to someone's house he hasn't even met before? 

"Cool. Just text me or Maia. What's your  _ Facebook _ ?" Alec gives Simon his Facebook name, which is just his actual name. He barely ever uses  _ Facebook _ . When he does it's to check up on some of his friends back in New York -- though only two of them have bothered with checking up on him  over the last few weeks.

The last two classes pass quickly -- English and creative writing being his favourite subjects. After the class has ended, he meets up with Izzy outside the school. Jace has practice that afternoon, so it's just the two of them walking back home. If Jace were there with them, they surely wouldn't have to walk for their father would pick them up without question. 

They don't talk much on their tr e k back home. Something has shifted in their relationship. Alec can't quite pinpoint what it is that has changed but if he were to take a guess, he'd say it's his fault for having withdrawn himself more and more over the course of the summer. He knows it's not fair. It's not her fault their parents are treating him the way they are. And it's important to mention how they're not treating Izzy fairly either. Where Alec comes last, Izzy comes third, right after Jace and Max. But that doesn't take away the hurt of everyone being treated better than he is. 

Back at home, Alec goes straight to his room, logging onto  _ Facebook _ . He accepts Simon's friend request, scrolling through his profile. Most of his status updates are nerdy references Alec doesn't understand. His laptop makes a 'plop' sound, and a red dot appears on the inbox icon. It's Simon.

Simon Lewis, 3m

_ Hey, have you asked your mum yet? _

 Another message appears just a second later. 

Simon Lewis, 3m

_ I can pick you up at 7 _ .

 Alec thinks for a moment, typing and deleting the words before he finally settles on what to say.

You, now

_ Hey, she won't be home until 5.30 but I'll let you know! _

You, now

_ Thanks for the invite btw.  _

 Alec minimizes the window on the screen, nervous energy flittering through his entire body. His options are either going and making a bad impression, making everyone hate him; or not going at all and them not bothering to invite him ever again. He guesses, his best way to make a choice is to see what his mother has to say. 

As predicted, his mother comes through the entrance door the same time she does every week day, Max trailing behind her. Strands of her long her are framing her face, having fallen out of the pony tail, dark circles around her eyes. 

 "Mum?" He asks, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, watching her as she stocks the fridge with  groceries  she bought in her way home. 

 "Yes, Alexander?" His heart beats a little faster  then , her tone suggesting that now isn't a good time. But when is it ever a good time for him to ask something of his parents?

 "Can I please go to a friend's house tonight?" 

 "No. It's a school night, Alexander." She doesn't even look up. 

 "But it's for a chem project," the lie rolls so effortlessly off his tongue. Somehow, he realises, his mother's defiance has turned his indecision into determination to go. He is sick of his parents treating him like they own him. And he is sick of still being treated like a child. But he can't find the courage to stand up to them just yet, too scared to find out what would happen next. So, lying it is. 

"And you won't even have to drive me there because Simon offered to pick me up and he can drive me home too." 

 Maryse halts then, finally looking at him. "Please?" He hates begging his parents for anything but what else is he supposed to do?

"What about homework?"

"Already done." 

"Show me." He sighs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her, or say something equally as petty. He rushes upstairs, collecting the worksheets he'd worked on for the last hour or so to show his mother, like he is seven years old and not fifteen, soon turning sixteen. His palms get all sweaty as she inspects his work closely, her humming of approval giving him hope. 

"Fine," she snaps eventually, "but you better be home by nine."

"Okay," he nods, not daring to ask for more time when getting to this point has already been a fight. 

Back in his room he types out a quick message to Simon, letting him know of the ridiculous curfew, hoping it won't pose as a problem. And then he waits. He still has an hour to pass and anxiety is taking over. What if he makes a complete ass of himself in front of everyone and then no one will ever want to have anything to do with him? What if they don't like him? What if all this is just some sick prank and they're all just waiting to take the piss out of him? 

By the time his phone vibrates with a text from Simon, letting him know he is there to pick him up, Alec has managed to talk himself into a frenzy and he is close to pretending he isn't home all of a sudden. But then Simon would probably ring the door bell, his mother would open the door and start asking a bunch of questions ,  which would then lead to Simon answering them truthfully, revealing Alec's lies in  the  process. And Alec can't have that. So he shoots a quick text back, letting Simon know he'll be out in a second. 

He says good bye to his parents, who are in the process of setting the table (or, Maryse is while Robert sits in his favourite arm chair, watching TV) and rushes out the door before they can ask any questions, or change their minds. 

Outside, he is greeted by Simon who is leaning against a shabby van with some sorts of graffiti sprayed all over. 

"Hey," he greets Simon, who opens the back door for him before he hops into the passenger seat himself. Maia is sat in the  driver ' s  seat, nodding at him in greeting, eyebrow arched. 

"Didn't peg you for one of the rich kids," she grumbles and Alec shrinks in his seat. The silence that follows is awkward, though an apology is sitting on the tip Alec's tongue. There is no denying it. His parents have loads of money, probably more than they'll ever be able to spend. And their house alone makes it obvious to anyone driving past. They leave the pompous neighbourhood behind, past their school, and into a lower-class neighbourhood, as his dad would call it. Simon talks the entire way -- mostly about Magnus' parties and get-togethers being legendary, just as much as the man himself -- while Maia keeps her mouth clamped shut, her forehead pulled into a deep frown. Alec keeps the question why Simon isn't driving the van, when he was the one to offer the ride, to himself, Maia doing a great job of intimidating him.

"But really, they're all pretty amazing. Just don't listen to Ragnor or Raphael. They can both be so grumpy and negative at times." They pull up in front of a small house, the porch could use a new paint job, and some of the wood planks are rotten through. 

"What? Doesn't fit your standard?" Maia grumbles beside Alec as they're waiting for the door to open, Alec having inspected the slippery wood panelling a bit too closely, apparently. 

"What? No, no --" he is saved by the door opening, revealing a petit redheaded girl who doesn't hesitate throwing her arms around Simon and Maia. 

"Hi, you must be Alec, right? I'm Clary," she opens her arms and Alec guesses this is his cue for reciprocating the offer  for  a hug, though he isn't a hugger at all. She leads them through the cramped hallway and into the living room that is about the size of Alec's bedroom, maybe slightly bigger. There are a bunch of people crowding the  L -shape d  couch, all staring at him as he enters the room. He wants to flee. He didn't think this through at all. 

He doesn't know anyone -- how should he? -- and now everyone is going to expect him to introduce himself and maybe talk about himself, his family and all that shit. And Maia already hates him for being born into a rich family which, really, isn't his fault. What if the others react the same way when they learn about his upbringing? He sure as hell isn't going to bring it up, never would, but what if Maia does? He can already hear her say it in his head, the distaste in her voice, maybe disgust even. And then everyone is going to turn against him.  

He wants out. Now. 

But then Clary jumps to his rescue, "everyone, this is Alec. Alec, this is everyone," she turns to him, "have a seat, they don't bite, though Raphael can be a bit snarky at times." She points at the guy dressed in all black. His face looks familiar, as do two other faces. Then it clicks. They're the guys from the football field  _ and _  the swimming pool, meaning  B _ aywatch _ -guy can't be far. The tall girl crouching on the couch, playing with one of her braids introduces herself as Cat, smiling genuinely at him. The other guy salutes him with a glass filled with ember liquid, introducing himself as  Ragnor . 

Then there's also Meliorn, a guy with blue streaks in his long hair, and Gretel, her white hair a stark contrast to her brown skin. Alec sits down beside Simon, feeling he might be his safest bet for not having to hold up a conversation -- the guy simply never shuts up and doesn't seem too bothered of Alec not being as talkative. 

"Where's Magnus?" Maia asks from her seat at the other end of the couch, as far away from Alec as possible. 

"On the phone. Should be down any minute," Ragnor provides, face grim. 

There are all kinds of conversations going on around Alec. Though he hasn't met any of those people before, they're trying their best to include him, never making him feel left out. Alec appreciates that. He answers Cat's questions about where he's from, why they moved and all that. He laughs at the silly jokes they all tend to make at times and he finds how he is enjoying himself immensely. They seem to be a tight-knit group of friends, he can tell by the way they talk to each other, and the anecdotes they throw into the conversation every now and then. They  did , as Simon explains, grow up together for the most part. It amazes Alec how, after all those years, they're still this close. 

The conversation dies down, when someone new enters the room, shoulders slumped, and Alec thinks he can see tear tracks on his cheeks, reflecting some of the  dim  overhead light. 

"Magnus!" Simon exclaims in excitement but frowns when Magnus blinks rapidly in an attempt of keeping more tears from coming. It's an odd moment to realise Magnus is in fact the guy Alec had dreamed about. Alec doesn't know him at all, but devastation is so obvious in the way Magnus holds himself, his heart hurts in sympathy. 

"What happened?" Cat sits up straight and Alec can tell just how protective she is over her friend. There is something threatening in her voice, though the threat isn't directed at Magnus but whoever has caused his distraught. 

"Nothing, just --" he shrugs, "just my dad being his usual self." He flops down onto the couch between Cat and Simon, lighting a cigarette. "Fuck him," he breathes out, eyes closed, a puff of smoke trailing out of his mouth. Alec isn't shocked to see someone his age with a cigarette between his lips. At his old school, a private school with a bunch of rich kids with the need to rebel, every third student had smoked tobacco at least once while others had been a bit more experimental with weed and other recreational drugs. What shocks him is the fact that Magnus does it so casually, inside his house without a hint of fear of being found out. 

"Yeah, fuck him," Cat, Ragnor, and Raphael agree in unison. 

"Wait," Magnus looks at Alec, eyebrow quirked, his tears dried, "I know you."

"Huh?" Alec's face goes up in flames. There is no possible way Magnus knows he has been part of Alec's horny teenage phantasies but he feels caught anyway. 

"You were at the pool with this girl, maybe three years younger than you." Oh shit, oh fuck. Did Alec do something stupid then? Was his ogling too obvious? Why else would someone like Magnus remember him? 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. You played in the water with her." 

"Um, yeah. I, I went to the pool once. With my sister."

"So," Magnus blows out another puff of smoke, "you're Alec. And you just saw me cry.  W ay to make an impression." He claps himself on the shoulder, a small smile playing around his lips. There is so much Alec wants to say but he doesn't know how. He can tell Magnus is ashamed of having cried in front of someone who doesn't belong to his group of friends, and now uses humour to overplay his feelings. And Alec gets it. In his family, emotions are seen as a weakness -- unless it's anger. And he, too, has shitty parents. 

But Alec has never been good with words, so "it's okay," is all that falls out of his mouth. Magnus seems to understand, though. He smiles at him, a smile that says thank you and so much more than that.

The conversations pick up again and Alec finds himself coming more out of his shell as the evening progresses. He seems to get along well everyone, including Maia who doesn't bring up the neighbourhood he lives in anymore. Nine o'clock comes far too quickly and it is with disappointment he realises he has to go back home again. Maia offers to drive him, assuring the others she'd be back in no time. 

"So you met the whole group," Maia says, starting the car.

"I like them." 

"Even though we’re not as rich as you?" Her grin suggests she's just joking but Alec still feels the need to apologise, what for he doesn't know. "Listen," she continues, "I'm sorry about earlier. That was stupid of me and I shouldn't have judged you based on the neighbourhood you live in." 

"It's okay," he waves it off, "I get it." 

"It wasn't okay, though." 

They remain quiet for the rest of the drive. Maia drops him off and before he can thank her, she speeds off again. He turns around, facing the house he lives in now, his stomach tying itself into knots at the mere sight of it. He trudges up the stairs leading to the front door and steps inside. His parents are sat in lounge, something dangerous in their expressions. He guesses it's best to get out of their way before they can use him as their punching bag but he doesn't get as far as the hallway when his mother calls out to him, her voice dangerously calm.

"Alexander!" He swallows thickly, his anxiety ticking up a notch . T here is nothing he can do to escape them now, so he makes his way over to where they're sitting. 

"Yes?" 

"Care to explain where you have been tonight?" He opens his mouth to reply but his mother continues, "don't tell me you were working on some project. You lied to me , a nd your father. You should be ashamed of yourself." 

"But I was. We worked on our project." 

"Don't lie to me," she growls, "show me what you've been working on." And it is then that he realises what a grave mistake he'd made leading her on with a school project. She always wants to see his school work. Always. "And please explain to me why you didn't take your chemistry book with you." 

"I --" he swallows, his mind coming up short. The panic in his chest grows and he wants to run away, lock himself in his room so bad but he can't. It's like his feet are bolted to the ground. He can't think clearly. All he hears is the blood pumping through his veins. 

His mother gets up then, stepping right into his space. He knows he has lost then, for she sniffs the air around him and before he knows it, her palm meets his face so hard, his vision starts swimming and all he hears is a high-pitched buzz. 

Then, "Alexander, I can't believe you! Have you been smoking?" She screams before she slaps him again for good measure. Tears start welling in his eyes. 

"No!" He whimpers, his voice sounding pathetic to his own ears. "I swear ,  I didn't." 

And then, Maryse breaks out into hysterics, screeching, "stop lying" over and over again, as she pushes him to the ground, and continues kicking at his legs. It is only when Robert, Robert of all people, jumps out of his seat to hold her back that she stops. In her husband ’ s arms, Maryse breaks down, sobs shaking her entire body. And Alec watches in utter disbelief and shock, hands trembling like a leaf. He doesn't know how he gets upstairs and inside his room, his body working on autopilot as his brain has completely shut down. He doesn't remember taking off his clothes, or getting into the shower. 

But that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because he remembers everything else of what happened. He remembers the fury in his mother's eyes, his own inability to defend himself; he remembers so clearly how her fury had turned into desperation and how then, she'd lashed out physically. 

A  cold spray of  water  hails down on him, his long fingers having taken on a shade of blue. He shivers, his back against the tiled wall and all he can think of is how much he doesn't want to be here anymore. He fucks up and then he continues to fuck up in every way imaginable. His parents hate him. His siblings don't care. What else is there to live for? He thinks about the pain killers in his bathroom cabinet. He thinks about the razor sitting on the counter right beside the basin. He could do it. He could make everyone's life easier and just do it. 

But he doesn't want to give his parents the satisfaction of winning. If he'd do it now, they'd get what they want. 

His shins have already started bruising and he doesn't even want to think of his face and whether Maryse's outburst of violence has left a mark there. Carefully, he runs his finger over his cheek, feeling for any sign of swelling. Surely enough, just underneath his cheekbone he stumbles upon a hardened patch. His stomach churns. When everyone's asleep he'll get some ice from the kitchen. 

*

He turns the water off eventually. Getting out of the shower takes  up  every little bit of strength he has left and he stumbles more than walks making his way over to the sink. He doesn't dare looking into the mirror, knowing he w ouldn’t  like what he' d  see. Instead, he focuses on his arms. There is his right arm, unscathed , pale, and  thin. And then there is his left arm, angry red lines adorning its skin, some deep, some just a scratch on the surface. 

He isn't proud of what he has done to himself. And he isn't proud of being unable to stop. He can't remember the exact day he'd done it for the first time but he knows for sure that it had been during the first week in this very house. He isn't proud of what he continues doing to himself as he slashes the razor  blade,  he'd taken a long time to get out of his razor across his skin, blood flowing freely as soon as he sets the blade to his skin. It doesn't even hurt that much anymore. It has turned into a sensation so familiar, it's almost comforting. No, not almost. It  _ is _  comforting. 

He keeps the tap running, washing the crimson droplets straight down the drain, not risking any stains on the white porcelain. And then, when he finds the strength to stop, he presses some toilet paper onto his arm, keeping pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding before he wraps the cuts in gauze. He doesn't feel particularly better after but, he likes to tell himself, it helps to ground him. At the same time, it also serves as a nice way of punishing himself. 

*

Numb, Alec crawls into bed. If anyone came to check on him, he didn't hear. But he wouldn't be surprised if no one did. 

Out of nowhere, his laptop makes a sound, the same sound Facebook makes to announce a new direct message. He sits up straight. He did turn off his laptop before he left. There is nothing he is more certain of. He always makes sure it's turned off because he knows his parents would use the opportunity to snoop around his things. So, why is it turned on now? 

He knows the answer before it even pops into his head. Of course, his mother went behind his back. The only question is how she got hold of his password, for it's completely random and he hasn't written it down anywhere for her to find. In two strides he is at his desk. He reads over the message from Simon and types out a quick reply, thanking him once more for inviting him before he changes all his passwords in hopes his mother won’t get them from somewhere too. 

He wants to get angry but he doesn't have the energy left. So instead, he buries his head underneath the pillow, closing his eyes, wishing he could just disappear. Minutes, maybe hours, pass and though he is completely drained, his mind won't let him sleep. There is a knock on his door and immediately, his entire body tenses up. Reluctantly, he comes out from underneath the pillow, sitting up. 

It's his father, not waiting to be allowed entrance to Alec's room, a stern expression on his face. Alec swallows . T his  can only  mean trouble. 

"I hope you know why your mother reacted the way she did," he starts. Alec wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, him being blamed for his mother being unable to keep her temper in check, bruising him in the process. 

"No," he says before he is able to gain control over his mouth. 

"You'll understand when you have kids yourself," his father says. Alec is sure he won't ever understand why people would willingly harm their children but he doesn't say it. He stares at a point at his wall, unable to meet his father's  piercing  eyes. 

"I came to tell you you're grounded for a month and in the  meantime, there  will be no computer, no TV, no phone. Is that understood?" 

Alec nods, biting his tongue, keeping the snarky remark 'how are you going to control me then?' to himself. 

"Very well," his father squints his eyes at him, "get some ice from the kitchen. You don't want people to start asking questions, do you?"

"No, sir." 

***

The next day starts off as ordinary as any -- Alec wakes up to the sound of his alarm, gets washed and dressed, taking his time doing so to avoid having to be around his parents any longer than absolutely necessary. His face is still throbbing, his shins and thighs a maze of dark blotches. But at least his face isn't noticeably swollen and he is able to cover his legs underneath his jeans. He hasn't got much sleep, which doesn't help at all. His mind is a whirlwind. 

He foregoes breakfast entirely, not even needing an excuse since no one bothers about asking anyway. He offers to take his bike to school, the thought of having to spend more than a second in the stuffy car with his siblings and father, pretending as though everything's fine, unbearable. His sister eyes him suspiciously but doesn't say anything .  Jace remains entirely oblivious as he stuffs his face with eggs and bacon. 

The cool summer wind blowing into his face as he rides down the street is a nice distraction from his current mood, which he still can't sort into a category he knows. He isn't sad. He isn't angry. He isn't scared. But he is something in between those three. It's like all feeling is being overshadowed by an all-swallowing numbness and the only thing keeping him going is the music blasting through his earphones -- thank God his father  didn’t  take his iPod away as well.

School doesn't start in another fifteen minutes when he locks his bike at one of the designated poles in the school parking lot. Not feeling like going inside yet, he walks around the building where he sits down on a step of the fire escape. He hides his face behind his hand, flinching as his hand rubs over a sore spot. Out of nowhere, his eyes fill with tears, the weight of the last day, and every other incident similar to that one crushing him. He can't go on like this anymore. He doesn't have the strength to do so. He has two years until he can leave for college and right now, those two years seem like an eternity. If he could, he'd have moved out, like, yesterday. 

He sucks in a sharp breath, the air not coming as freely as it used to a few seconds ago. He feels small, the rest of the world huge and unreachable to him. 

The classes he has with Simon together, Alec acts as though the hours after he came home didn't happen, like he isn't completely shattered on the inside. In the third and fourth period, he completely zones out and during lunch he goes back to the bleachers just like the day before. As much as he'd enjoyed hanging out with Magnus and the other guys, he hopes they won't find him here since  they --  Magnus, Raphael, Cat, and  Ragnor  --  have the same lunch period as he does. 

He quietly nibbles at the sandwich he has brought from home, the bread turning to ash in his mouth. He finishes half of it but only to appease his empty stomach. He doesn't feel anything besides the dull throb on his face and the faint sting whenever he moves his arm a certain way. The pain helps keeping him grounded in some sick way and when he can't take it any longer, he squeezes his arm tightly between his hand, relishing in the familiarity of the pain he is in control of. The bandage is warm to the touch. He can feel the wounds split open underneath the gauze. He can feel blood seeping out of the cuts and into the gauze. And he is filled with satisfaction. 

Back at home he locks himself in his room, lying flat on his stomach for hours without lifting a finger. He doesn't read, like he normally would. He doesn't listen to any music. He just lies there with his eyes closed,  listening to his empty thoughts, the urge to self-destruct overwhelming. At times, his need to harm himself scares him. He can't explain what goes on in his mind whenever he is driven to resort to the razor blade. It's like he is in control of the situation but at the same time he really isn't, his body moving on its own accord, robotically almost. 

 He has thought about taking his own life a couple of times over the last two months but never has he got as close as he did last night. Now he can't help but think what would happen, should he lose control entirely while he is at it. 

 Because the truth is, he doesn't really want to die. He wants to get away from his life, from his parents, and from being himself. But he does not want to be dead, buried six feet underground.

Izzy knocks on his door to get him for dinner. And this, Alec thinks, is probably the worst thing about being grounded. There is no way for him to get out of dinner, and no way to get out of his parents' hair. 

 Dinner is awful. The tension that has settled over the table is palpable and keeping Alec on his toes. He keeps his head down, only talking when being directly asked to. He half-heartedly listens to Jace gushing about training, and Izzy getting all excited about a sleepover she has been invited to.

Alec is being all consumed by his own thoughts, finding it harder and harder to stay focused on what's happening around the table. That's why, when Maryse slams her fist down onto the table, screaming bloody murder, Alec flinches so hard, the memento threatens to throw him, and the chair he is sat on, to the ground. His vision blurs, the edges darkening. He doesn't fall, though. His entire body goes rigid in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. 

Then, Maryse starts yelling and Robert yells back just as loud. Max starts crying, which only makes Maryse yell even louder, her hands flying through the air, blaming Robert for scaring the children. Later, when Alec lies in bed, he will think of his mother's accusation and laugh about it. He'll laugh about the irony of her accusation, and he'll laugh because everything else would cause too much pain -- thinking how much she is worried about Max, Izzy, and Jace but not him because he is the disappointment of the family, and he deserves being at the brunt of her outbursts. 

Izzy gets up then, taking Max's hand, removing him from the situation. Before, that could have been Alec, always protective over his siblings, keen on keeping them out of  harm's  way. Now, he doesn't dare to move. His parents are wild animals and he is their potential prey -- one wrong movement and they'll go after him, thirsting after his blood. 

The fight ends with Maryse storming out of the room, doors slamming behind her, and Robert getting back to his roasted potatoes and chicken as though the last five m inutes  haven't happened at all. Alec sits stock still and only when Jace pushes away from the table does he dare getting up as well. He wants to hide in his room, sleep until the next morning comes. But he can't. There is something he has to do first. 

He knocks at Max's door, waiting until Izzy tells him to come in. Izzy and Max are both cuddled up on Max's bed, Max in Izzy's lap, an opened book lying to the side as though they had put it down a few seconds ago. Alec sits down beside them, taking them both in his arms. Izzy buries her head into the crook of his neck, Max slings his tiny arms around his upper arm. It's silent. And maybe, for the first time in weeks, a sense of comfort settles over Alec. The door opens once more, without a knock, and a second later Jace is part of their pile, holding tightly onto all three of them.

Alec realises then, he isn't entirely alone in this world. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, thank you so much for giving this story a try!  
> second of all, I feel like I might need to explain the scene where Maryse is suddenly kicking out at Alec for it might seem a bit ... over-dramatic? Well, in this story, Maryse is kind of based on my own experiences. and, without going into further detail, the person Maryse is based on tended to blow up out of nowhere and lash out like that whenever they didn't know what else to do.  
> I love Maryse's character development on the show. Here, not so much. Her character is based on/inspired by my own experiences. So, don't expect a redemption arc for Maryse. Because, in my humble opinion, people like her don't deserve one.


End file.
